Best I can tell, every non-productive Sunday begins much the way things are starting out now. I wake up around 8 (stupid sun and its rousing rays), see what the Pirates/Penguins did last night (win!), see who the Steelers play today (Falcons and Vick), and then play piano/video games or read a book (today it's Ender's Game) or lie in bed (and blog and watch The Office or Arrested Development (hooray today!)) until football games start. I take with myself my study materials, which sit with me and watch the day's football games (and then the World Series). They're not very great company. They just sit there, open and inattentive. And if I know anything about interpersonal relationships {he doesn't}, I know that you have to be both open and attentive. Because that's what respek is. In many ways, I wish the knowledge and I were one, you know, that we could understand each other, so that we could enjoy the game together. (That's pretty much code for "I wish I didn't have to study and that I already knew the information so I could watch the games without feeling guilty.")
(and while I'm wishing, I'd really like a pony) (not really) (I'd much rather have a monkey) (and a berry pie) (well, a few berry pies)
My mom just told me about an article in the newspaper that talked about some lady and her amazing collection of Black History stuff. (I too was wondering what such an article was doing in the paper..I mean, it's not February or anything..but it turns out the lady just died and it makes sense not to try to wait a few months to remember a dead person when you can just get it out of the way nice and early. Her collection was quite impressive. It's supposedly the second most important one (Smithsonian might be the first. Or maybe Muhammad Ali's trophy case), but I guess it's very disorganized. She was something of an eccentric, but I think collectors of anything usually are. Also, their homes usually stink.)
Well, football's about to start, and I need to start some laundry so I can wear clean under....socks. And shirts. This week. To wear. I don't wanna get stuck without white socks and have to wear my weird green church socks (that don't match any of my church shoes) with tennies. Girls pick up on that sort of thing. They also pick up on teasing you if you tell them that you blow dried your hair once last week. It was only once though. I only blue myself once. (I know, I should really buy myself a tape recorder and record myself for a whole day.)
And thus, another day with many potential study hours becomes part of a ritual, habitual lazyfest. And to think people go to church on this day.
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